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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29429832">Hair</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckybarnesthehotshot/pseuds/buckybarnesthehotshot'>buckybarnesthehotshot</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Enola Holmes (2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, Sherlock Holmes Fanfiction, Sherlock Holmes Imagine, Sherlock Holmes x reader - Freeform, Sherlock Holmes x y/n, Sherlock Holmes x you - Freeform, Sherlock x y/n, enola holmes - Freeform, sherlock x reader - Freeform, sherlock x you</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:47:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,308</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29429832</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckybarnesthehotshot/pseuds/buckybarnesthehotshot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>y/n has a habit of playing with her husband’s hair. He decides he wants to start doing the same with hers</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes &amp; Reader, Sherlock Holmes &amp; You, Sherlock Holmes/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hair</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Why is it that you keep playing with my hair, y/n?” Sherlock questioned, turning to face his wife as he leaned against the door frame of their sitting room.</p><p>       “I find it quite relaxing, Sherlock. Do you have a problem with it?” y/n questioned, raising a brow at him as she set down one of the books she’d been reading onto the table.</p><p>       “No, I just don’t see why you seem to enjoy it,” Sherlock shrugged as y/n narrowed her eyes at him, eyeing him suspiciously before speaking.</p><p>        “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I am going to assume you tried playing with your own hair,” y/n chuckled, looking up at her husband from her position on their plush red couch, leaning intently over the armrest.</p><p>       “Am I really that easy to read?” Sherlock chuckled, watching as y/n got up from her seat, approaching him with a grin on her face.</p><p>       “Not to other people, no. You seem to forget, I’m your wife; reading you comes with the job description,” y/n winked at him, ruffling his curls once more with her fingers. His blue eyes pierced into her e/c ones as he smiled at her gesture.</p><p>       Was it unconventional? Sure. Did he ever see it as a bother? Of course not. He loved her and if allowing her to run her gentle hands through his dark hair was enough to make her happy or feel at ease, he would have no problem with it.</p><p>       “I guess it does, doesn’t it?” Sherlock chuckled, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and giving her a quick peck on her soft cheek.</p><p>       “You missed,” y/n giggled as Sherlock raised a brow at her, a smirk on his face.</p><p>      “Did I?” he questioned teasingly, watching as y/n rolled her eyes.</p><p>       “Yes, you did,” she nodded as Sherlock chuckled.</p><p>       “Oh well, I’ll do better next time,” Sherlock grinned at her as he made his way to the couch his wife had been sitting on, taking a look at the book his wife had been reading previously.</p><p>       “You are the absolute worst,” y/n frowned, making her way over to the couch and seating herself next to Sherlock, laying her head against his shoulder as he too began reading the book she left on the couch; a copy of Shakespeare’s Macbeth.</p><p>        “And yet you said yes to me when I asked for your hand in marriage. What does that say about you, darling?” Sherlock chuckled, taking her left hand in his as he toyed with their wedding band; a simple gold ring with a stunning diamond sitting on the center of it.</p><p>       “It’s not like I had too many options to begin with. Everyone is just so unjustly aggravated when a woman speaks her mind,” y/n rolled her eyes.</p><p>       “Well, that wasn’t much of a problem to me, was it, Mrs. Holmes?” Sherlock smiled down at her as she began running her gentle thumb over the veins of his hand.</p><p>       “And I’m lucky you’re the man I married. Had it been anybody else, I’d be living a disastrous life. One far different than the life I live now with you,” y/n chuckled to herself, silently thanking the universe for pairing her with a man like Sherlock, “So, did you receive any good cases as of late?”</p><p>       “Not necessarily. Though, my brother requests our presence at a gala in one of the more high-brow estates,” Sherlock spoke carefully as y/n’s eyes met his once more as she tilted her head to the side.</p><p>       “I don’t think I remember the last time I’ve been to one of those,” y/n chuckled to herself as Sherlock could sense the unease in her voice.</p><p>       “If you don’t want to go, we can always choose not to. It’s just another gala, after all,” Sherlock spoke, resting his head on hers.</p><p>        “No, no. Mycroft would not have invited you if this gala didn’t hold any sort of importance. We can go,” y/n smiled up at him as Sherlock nodded.</p><p>       “I’ll send him a telegram, if that’s the case,” Sherlock nodded, giving y/n a quick kiss on her lips before making his way to his study to write Mycroft a telegram.</p><p>       “Sherlock, can you come over here?” y/n questioned from their bedroom, standing in front of the full-length mirror standing near the wall.</p><p>       “Do you need anything?” he questioned, his reflection showing up behind hers in the mirror.  </p><p>       “Lace me up?” she requested, motioning to the strings of her corset, earning a nod from Sherlock. He made quick, but gentle work with the strings of the corset; careful not to pull the strings too tightly to make sure she could still breathe.</p><p>       “Did you do your hair?” Sherlock questioned, his baby blues taking in her appearance as she began throwing on the layers of her dress.</p><p>       “Of course, I did,” y/n smiled proudly as Sherlock pulled his hands to her hair, his hands tracing the stray pieces of hair framing her face.</p><p>       “You look beautiful,” he smiled down at her, his hand cupping her cheek as their eyes met, a smile making its way to her face.</p><p>       “And you look handsome as ever,” she smiled up at him, her arms wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss, smiling as his lips were pressed to hers.</p><p>        “You know what I think, though?” Sherlock questioned, raising a brow at her as he questioned her.</p><p>       “I can read your expressions, but I’m no mind reader, darling,” y/n chuckled to her husband, her eyes doing her best to search his for answers.</p><p>       “Your hair would look much better if it wasn’t up and I could run my hands right through your hair,” Sherlock smiled mischievously before pulling off one of the main clips pulling her hair into the elegant updo it was in, her hair falling out the updo.</p><p>       “Sherlock! I worked hard to get my hair up like that!” y/n exclaimed, her hands making their way to her hair in an attempt to keep it in the position it had been in previously.</p><p>       “And you look better with or without your hair a certain way. I honestly prefer it this way because you look more and more like the woman I love; the carefree one and says what’s on her mind. I know you don’t like portraying yourself that way to other people, but I don’t care about that and neither should you,” Sherlock spoke softly as he slowly pulled y/n’s wrists away from her hair, letting it fall out of her updo.</p><p>       “Sherlock, I’m sick of being compared to you constantly. I’m tired of being told I’m not enough of a lady to be with the great Sherlock Holmes,” y/n rolled her eyes, recounting the words she’d heard multiple times the last time she and her husband attended a gala.</p><p>       “Don’t you get it? One of the many reasons I love you is because you’re different. You’re intuitive and you actually show interest in my cases. I love you for who you are and I don’t want you to put up a façade in front of people who know nothing about us and have no right to judge either of us. You’re perfect just the way you are, y/n,” Sherlock spoke sweetly as y/n’s eyes glossed over with tears at his speech. She wrapped her arms around him, before once again, running her hands through his hair as she did so often. This time, Sherlock smirked before running his own hands through her hair, making a mess of it too.</p><p>       They smiled at each other. After all, neither of them really cared how others saw them. They had each other and that was fine with them both.</p>
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